Zombie Trail
by silvr-shadow
Summary: After playing a game of Zombie Oregon Trail, this fic came to mind. This fic contains Daryl Dixon of The Walking Dead, Murphy and Connor MacManus of The Boondock Saints, and Dean Winchester and Jimmy Novak of Supernatural.
1. The world is a cruel cruel place

From a young age, Daryl had always tried to please his mother. Everything she ever asked of him, the young man would do almost without a second thought. If she needed the dishes washed, the yard cleaned up, anything. Daryl would jump to make sure she was feeling okay. At least, that's how it was, until the Merle passed away. Things had never been easy for the family, that was for sure. Their father was an alcoholic, and mom worked extra late hours to keep everyone fed. But Merle's death had been unexpected- a turn of events no one could have prepared for.

The phone call came a little after three in the afternoon, on a warm Georgia summer day. It always seemed a little stuffier up on the mountains, but Daryl never really complained. When the phone rang, it only took him two bounds before he had it picked up, wiping his dirty hands on a rag as he answered. "'Ello?" He stated, his southern accent thick as he waited for the person on the other line to speak.

"Yes, is this Mr. Dixon?" The other side piped, Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Nah, dad's asleep, he drank too much again. Can I take a message?" Daryl asked, grabbing a piece of scrap paper that was nearby. The pen in the young man's hand nearly snapped in half when the other person continued to talk. "What? Merle? Are you sure it was him!" Daryl asked, raising his voice now as his blue eyes darted around the house. Merle wasn't home. Daryl hadn't seen him since last night, after all. But to hear his brother had been shot to death, and they didn't know why, Daryl would have sworn it wasn't real. "We'll be there in a bit." Daryl stated before hanging up the phone and pawing at his eyes for a second as he gasped for air. How could his big brother be dead? His brother. His family. His blood. Daryl's lip quivered slightly as he continued to try and blink back the tears and fear that was swimming around in his chest.

"Ma!" Daryl called out, darting off towards her bedroom. "Ma! We have to go. Merle's..." Daryl almost couldn't finish the sentence as he banged on her door. "The police just called..." He managed, his mother opening the door and blinking down at him. Blue eyes darted up at her with the most sorrowful expression she'd ever seen on the boy as he quickly wrapped his arms around her and let out a shaking gasp.

Identifying his brother wasn't as hard as he'd thought it would be. But after leaving the area, Daryl couldn't help but get sick. It wasn't that he'd been disgusted by the dead body, that wasn't it at all. It was more or less the fact that the reality of losing someone he loved was setting in. Why couldn't it have been his low life father? Or some other idiot. Not Merle. Anyone but his brother. The car ride home was mostly dead silent until his mother broke it with a simple question.

"How are we gonna tell your dad?" She asked, turning to look at Daryl. The young man didn't have an answer for her. He couldn't even begin to think of one. Their dad was a drunk, he never paid attention. Daryl would have bet that if they told him, he'd think they were joking, and forget about it until he realized Merle hadn't been home for a few weeks. Then it would finally sink in. Shaking his head, Daryl opened his mouth to speak, but instead of just words, a broken sound mixed with them poured out.

"I dunno, Ma. I dunno..."

The years went on, and the family continued regardless of the problems. The older Daryl got, though, the more his mother seemed to push the idea of going to college. Getting a real job. Making the family money, and supporting them in their old age. Daryl would, of course, do anything he could to make his mother happy, and if that meant going to college, then Daryl would do it. He went to law school, and struggled through the classes. Each day was a challenge. He was often picked on, but in the end, he usually came out on top, physically. There was only one time that he got jumped after school, and the boys that did it were found a few days later, beaten up and bloody in the alley, and hardly alive. It seemed that after that, no one bothered the young Lawyer in the making. Daryl graduated, not with flying colors, but he did succeed. Eventually being moved to Washington D.C. and finding a job there, thanks to the school's relocation program. Daryl had never really been this far from home before, but the money was nice. At least this way, he was able to send his parents money, and not deal with his dad. There were several different accounts where Daryl wanted to pay to bring his mother out to D.C. to live with him, but due to the weather, which had been strange lately, and his busy schedule, he never got around to it.

Somewhere in the midst of time loss, and strange weather, something happened. Even though he should have, Daryl didn't watch the news often. It wasn't until he heard the emergency sirens going off, and people running in all directions that something even seemed terribly off to him. Perhaps the bloody mess of what looked like a human being shambling towards him was a wakeup call. When the creature of sorts caught site of Daryl, the man just acted. He'd taken the suitcase he had to carry, and beat the monster in the head. Everyone else was busy running, and in Daryl's mind, you shouldn't run, you should face your fears. Once on the ground, Daryl examined whatever the thing was. Human, once, it seemed, but that wasn't the answer Daryl had wanted to hear. Taking off his dark suit coat and button up shirt, Daryl left them laying on a park bench. Leaving himself in his white tank top, and dress pants and shoes. They weren't comfortable, but neither was the suit coat. At least this way, he'd be able to move a little more freely.

The young man headed back to his apartment, making it there without much problem. There wasn't much on the TV, like usual, not even an alert to explain what was happening. Daryl took this chance to change out of his dress pants, and shoes, and into jeans, and boots. Something he could move in, just like in Georgia. But that's when it happened, the alert came across the TV. It stated that Washington D.C. was something of a 'hot zone', and was going to be wiped out with a nuclear strike. As a small bit of panic gripped the young man's heart, Daryl darted out of the door with nothing but a shotgun, and his old hunting bow from when he was younger.

For being close to alone, Daryl seemed to be handling the news better than most. There were screaming women, which was expected, but also screaming men. One of which was seemingly pinned down by a zombie, and trying to use a suitcase to protect himself. Firing one shot at the creatures head, since that seemed to take it down before, Daryl extended a hand towards the stranger. "C'mon." He stated, staring down with matching blue eyes at the dark haired man. "We ain't got all day." He barked, moving to wipe the blood off of his face that had sprayed with the shot.

The man he'd located was none other than Jimmy Novak. A business man who had been visiting Washington at the wrong time, and gotten jumped by the monster. Taking the strangers hand, the shaking dark haired man blinked a few times. "Jimmy." He stated, as Daryl blinked at him a few times. "Jimmy Novak. That's my name. Thank you." He finished, trying to offer the man a smile.

Daryl blinked a few more times only to shrug. "Daryl. Daryl Dixon." He replied, rolling his eyes slightly as he looked away. What a time to make friends, he'd thought to himself before darting off. Jimmy, of course, wasn't about to let him go off on his own, or rather, leave Jimmy alone. Daryl didn't mind the other following him, it was human instinct after all. Not wanting to be alone. Daryl always felt like he strayed from that, and in the end, always wanted to be alone. But, seeing as how it was suddenly the end of the world, Daryl wasn't about to start complaining when his life was in danger.

Jimmy was simply lost in thought as he glanced around the scene. But there was some man, some man that he'd sworn he'd seen before, and he was also carrying around a shot gun. "Daryl! Look!" Jimmy had shouted out, pointing towards the man with green eyes and short hair. Daryl made a face before approaching, gun out, locked, and loaded.

"You know what these are?" The stranger growled out, pointing at the mangled corpse on the ground. "These are the sons of bitches that killed my brother!" He finished, firing upon the deceased once more. Jimmy apparently was unable to help himself as he rushed forward to grab the other's shoulders.

"Dean! It's me. Jimmy..." He stated, watching the other suddenly come to realization.

"Great, a family reunion, can we please go? The fuckin' place is gonna get blown up here, shortly." Daryl stated, waving his arm. He knew the feeling of losing a brother, and he knew Dean needed to get over it. "C'mon, people. Or I'm fuckin' leavin' without y'all." He growled as he continued forward.

Dean and Jimmy followed carefully, and to Daryl's surprise, Dean was quite good with a shotgun and aim. He must have been hunting since he was a kid, and he only imagined that he might have been from the south. Maybe not as far south, since there was a lack of an accent, but south. Of course, his thoughts were quickly broken apart at the sight of two boys fighting to get untangled from a mess or rope while shooting the zombies anywhere but the head. In a panic, Dean and Daryl both jumped forward, taking out most of the group, and Jimmy came in to cut them free.

"The fuck you think you guys are, Houdini?" Daryl growled out as the two boys thanked him.

"Who the fuck do you think ye are, Rambo?" The lighter haired one quipped back with a scowl, checking what seemed to be his twin brother over. "Are you alright, Murph?" He asked him with a concerned glare.

"I'm fine, Con. Next time, no fuckin' rope. It was a stupid idea to try and round them up with the rope. Movies or not, never again." He stated, blinking at the group before him. "Who're your friends?" He smirked, winking at his brother and nudging his shoulder.

Daryl couldn't help but roll his eyes at the group he'd managed to find, but they all had guns, and so far, it looked like they were the last ones. "C'mon. I've got a car right down the street. It ain't much, but it will get us where we needa go." Daryl stated, still unsure of where they needed to go besides away from here.

From within the shadows, a cloaked figure strode through the streets. A single gun slipping its tip out from under a long sleeved arm whenever a zombie wandered too close. He approached the boys carefully, stepping out from seemingly nowhere, and hiding his face. "You won't get far without supplies." He hissed, watching them all carefully. "I can guide you, but you only have a few hours." He finished, moving slowly in a circle around them. "Eight hours. I'll help you look for things to leave the city." The mysterious man was giving everyone the creeps, but by the sound of it, he knew what he was talking about.

"'Kay." Daryl spat back, watching the other carefully. Of course, it was the most creepy thing he'd ever seen, some stranger wandering up and offering them help. But in all honesty, with the way the city looked at this moment in time, he'd take all the help he could get as long as whoever was offering it was alive, and not rotting or trying to eat anyone's face off. "Lemme grab the car, you guys work with this guy. Find us some supplies, and we're leavin'." He managed before jogging off towards the location he'd given for his car. The rest of the group watched the stranger cautiously before nodding slowly.

"Tell us what to do." They said, because eight hours wasn't a lot of time to find everything you could need to get to safety. "We're going to need food, and ammunition!" Jimmy barked out, stating the obvious as everyone blinked at him. "I'm just... saying." He finished, claiming that duty for himself as he fixed his tie, and adjusted his collar before glancing down at the ground and wandering off.

It wasn't long before Daryl showed up with the station wagon, which only received a groan from everyone. "Shut yer fuckin' mouths. I don't seen y'all offerin' up yer cars!" Daryl hissed as he stormed off to go searching for gas, and other things that they would need. If the world was going to shit, Daryl didn't really care what they were driving, as long as it moved and kept the dead out.


	2. The first days on the road

The fact that the group only had eight simple hours to collect supplies left them dwindling and making it on bare rations. Daryl made it clear right away that they'd need to conserve what they had, and find things for trade in the next town. They'd need gas, or they weren't going to get much further than this. After a few hours on the road, the few bags of chips that the group had started to look pathetic, and Daryl decided to be the man about things, and go find food.

He'd been hunting since he was young, and knew how to handle on his own. But to feed a group of four others, plus himself, that was going to be a challenge. Daryl stopped the car where he felt it would be safe, and no one from the group even bothered to ask if they could help out. Making his way into the small town they passed, Daryl stepped around dead bodies, and made his way towards the gas station to look for food. The ground was littered with rocks, and pieces of trash. Shards of glass sparkled with the light of the burning sun as the heat rebounded off the pavement. The sun, of course, didn't last long as thick dark clouds came quickly rolling in, giving Daryl a chill down his spine as he proceeded. With his shotgun out, Daryl walked slowly, not seeing any of the walking dead approaching, or even noticing him, yet.

At least, he assumed they wouldn't have even thought about him, if he hadn't walked straight into a cart, and tripped. The noise alerted everyone, and Daryl quickly bolted into the gas station, locking the door behind himself. "Fuck." He growled out, finding himself locked in a store, and surrounded by these creatures with no way to contact the group. "Good fuckin' lord!" He shouted out, giving one of the shelving units a good kick. He never bothered to ask for anyone's numbers, but then again, he assumed the stupid cell phone he carried in his pocket probably wasn't going to be working. Daryl assumed he'd ought to make the most of it, and grabbed a cart, searching for the things that he could fit inside of it, that wouldn't make it impossible to push.

Down the aisles, it was as if no one had even bothered to come and try to raid the store, yet. Maybe this was just the beginning, and Daryl was the first one here. Or maybe they were the only survivors. These were the things that ran through Daryl's head as he walked down, checking on the instant food section. He grabbed crackers, noodles, and other things that could be easily eaten as is. The man completely ignored the food that would need to be cooked, or could easily go bad, and continued to fill the cart as full as he could.

Upon completing his task, Daryl assumed it would be best to try and head back. It was already nearing darker hours, and maybe in the dark, those zombies couldn't see very well. At least, that's what he hoped. As he peered out the door, he noticed that the group had seemed to disperse a bit. Drawing in a deep breath, the young man placed his shotgun in the cart, and shoved it out of the door. He took off at a run, using the weight of the cart for speed as he jumped onto the small bar in the front, and used it as a transportation device. The bumps weren't so bad as long as he avoided the larger pieces of stone and the ex-lawyer couldn't help but yet out a whoop as he flew past the zombies, and back towards the nearly empty road he'd taken to get here. Having fun during the end of the world wasn't something Daryl had expected to be able to do, and he guessed that things would only get harder from here on out.

Once he found the car again, Daryl made his way towards it slowly. It was already darker than he'd wanted it to be, and with that, a small twisted smirk crawled across his lips. Slamming himself against the passenger side window, Daryl let out a scream, causing Jimmy to jump and nearly hit his head while trying to reach for a gun. Daryl let out a roll of laughter, nearly having to hold onto the car to prevent himself from falling down as he tried to catch his breath.

"Pop the fuckin' truck, you pansy." Daryl stated with a huff as he moved to the back of the car to drop off what he'd collected. "Listen to me, now. There's a gas station up the road a little ways, I need y'all to bring the car closer so this don't take as long, and we can fill up." He said, blue eyes darting around the watch the others as they looked at him as if he were completely insane. But they complied, moving the car where he told them to as he made his way back inside as quickly as he could.

One could say they scored the mother lode with this one, and even the twin boys darted in to grab cigarettes, and lighters. They claimed they could use those, and Daryl simply shook his head. Whatever made them happy, he guessed. It wasn't as if there was anything else that could, anymore. With the trunk full, and Pittsburgh in mind, the group decided to head off.

The night air was chilling, and to their surprise, the closer they got towards the city, the more zombies seemed to appear. They looked as if they liked the later hours, not just after dark, but after the dark had set in. It was a strange thing, but Daryl wasn't about to question it. Perhaps the cooler air was something they enjoyed. The twins and Dean didn't seem to get along the best, but they'd manage. At least until Connor wouldn't put out his cigarette.

"Put it out. It's bothering me." Dean had growled, shooting glares at both brothers. Murphy had already finished his, but Connor simply glared right back. "I don't have to." Connor had stated, blue eyes narrowing slightly. It didn't take long for the hunter to dive over Murphy, and attempt to grab the cigarette. The tangle mess made Daryl stop the car with a sudden jolt, and try to turn around to break them out. Beyond all of the screaming, slapping, and punching, there was one thing that Jimmy pointed out. "The car is on fire!" He had shouted, causing everyone to stop where they were, and struggle to put out the precious food they'd just collected. This event had cost them a good portion, and Daryl's eyes had narrowed in anger.

"Do y'all know how fuckin' hard that was to come by? And y'all are bickerin like a bunch of fuckin' children! Good lord! Y'all ain't fuckin' eatin tonight. Got that? Anyone fuckin' touches the food, and I'll shoot you myself. No more smokes in the car, either." He spat, turning around, fastening his belt, and moving forward again. When the sun came up, Daryl had taken notice of a large flock of birds circling around something. Curiosity had won him over as he stopped the car, and decided to investigate, only to find an over turned truck with doughnuts. "Looks like we got ourselves breakfast." Daryl stated, sounding a little more cheered up as he grabbed some of the untouched boxes, and passed them into the car.


	3. Pittsburgh

When Pittsburgh finally came into view, it was a relief no one could explain. There was water, supplies, and a safe place to rest. But Daryl's irritation was growing with every passing day. No one wanted to trade for anything but the food he'd worked so hard to find, and other people only wanted money, which Daryl didn't have any more. "The fuck is money gonna do for you? It's the end of the world, stupid!" Daryl had hissed out, pointing towards his head in a notion to try to get the other person to use his brain. "Good lord, the fuck is wrong with you people..." He mumbled as he stormed off back towards the car. "We should go." He stated, slamming the door, and waiting for the others to get back in.

Once they left the city limits, everything seemed fine until they ran into a horde of zombies blocking the street. "What do we do?" Daryl asked, turning around to look at the other people in the car with him. None of them had an answer, except the nervous man in the front seat. "We should wait." Jimmy stated, hands still gripping that stupid suitcase he'd carried with him as tightly as possible. "Fine." Daryl replied, stopping the car and waiting. As a few hours passed, the horde seemed to do nothing but grow in size, and emotion. Now restless, Daryl was getting tired of waiting. "Fuck it, we're driving through." He growled before starting the car, and proceeding with caution. Despite Jimmy's pounding heart, he made no attempt to protest.

As they drove past the creatures, not a single one seemed to be interested in their station wagon, in fact, it was as if they hadn't even noticed. Daryl was curious as to how this was reasonable, but they seemed a little more worked up about fighting with each other, rather than the car full of people. To their relief, they made it through without any problems.

Following another flock of vultures, Daryl was able to locate yet another over turned truck. It was like fishing for gold. Once in awhile, you got something good. You just had to know where to look. Things were starting to get better, in Daryl's eyes. That was, until Dean suddenly came down with what appeared to be Cholera. No one in the car was a doctor, but having Dean getting sick every few miles was a pain in the ass. He'd grown pale, and seemingly sicker.

"Guys, I don't want to die..." Dean had managed as they'd pulled up to the mall. It was Jimmy who had crawled into the back with him, holding his hand and trying to comfort him. "You aren't going to die. I promise." Jimmy told him, letting the other's go about their business in the mall they'd stopped at, like buying heavily needed things, and fueling up. After about twelve hours of waiting and resting, Dean finally started to feel better. It had been rough, but Jimmy hadn't left his side, not even for a moment. The only problem now was the lack of food. Everyone had seemingly gotten too comfortable, and had eaten most of everything they'd had.

When the group finally left the mall, there was an abandoned car that Daryl went to investigate, but found nothing. Instead, Daryl decided he'd try his luck again at the gas station up the road.

On his way up to the store, there was a lot of things running through Daryl's head. Like, how was his mom doing? Was his dad dead? Was this going to be the way the world ended? Lost in thought as he approached the doors, Daryl hardly even paid attention as he grabbed a cart and started walking. They'd been at this for days, or was it weeks? He could hardly remember anymore as he walked down the aisles, filling the cart with much needed food. "The fuck am I always the gofer boy...?" Daryl mumbled to himself as he read the back of one of the containers of peanut butter. But, that was when it happened. So fast, Daryl hardly had time to react. One moment, he would have sworn he was alone. The next, a zombie was jumping off the top of the shelf and onto his head. The zombie hadn't anticipated for the wire shelving unit to come down with it as he free fell onto the man below. Falling back, Daryl's head cracked against the hard ground, causing him to let out a sort of groan and scream at the same time. The disgusting stench of rot was fresh on this monster's body as he hissed, snapping at him with rotten teeth.

"Fuck you!" Daryl growled out, his world spinning from the crack to his head as he worked to pull the crossbow out from under him. This would have been easier if not for the added weight of the struggling creature, and metal rack that laid on top of him, now. He could have sworn he'd broken a rib, or at least bruised something, but he'd had worse, but it was getting harder to breathe. Lucky for him, the safety had kept the bow cocked at all times, and all Daryl had to do was keep the monster at bay while he loaded an arrow into the bow. Pushing with one hand against the rack to try and keep the monster away from his face, Daryl set the crossbow on the ground and attempted to slide the arrow onto the track. And it would all seem too easy. Once the arrow was in, the shelf that had come down with the zombie shifted, knocking the bow off balance as Daryl took aim, and sending the arrow whizzing in the wrong direction. A look of disbelief struck the man's blue eyes as the beast on top of him came a little too close for comfort towards his own neck. With a small grunt of fear, Daryl grabbed another arrow from the front of the crossbow, and let the device crash to the floor before shoving the arrow into the zombies mouth, and towards the brain. The crunch that ensued was enough to make Daryl whine out again, but what made it worse was the cold blood and questionable liquids that flowed over his fingers as the creature went limp. Scrambling up, Daryl shoved the metal rack and deceased zombie off of himself before looking around in fear. His hands were still shaking from the event, and his knees felt weak. Leaving the two lost arrows had seemed like the only option as Daryl grabbed what he could as he ran down the aisle, and then made his way out of the doors.

When he got back to the car, he refused to tell anyone about what happened. Or why he was covered in blood, and smelt dead. All that mattered was that he had the food. He didn't care if he'd gotten hurt. In fact, he'd be fine. He didn't need anyone whining and worry about him. Especially not these people. These people who already had enough to worry about with Dean getting sick, and the twins catching things on fire, and Jimmy praying to some unknown God when he thought no one was listening. Daryl couldn't put that on them. Not now, and not ever. He'd need to take care of himself, and that was the end of the story. The silence had seemed to get to the group, but Daryl didn't have the heart to explain.

As they continued on, Dean seemed to come down with Typhoid. Daryl silently wondered if it was from the shelter they'd taken recently, since everyone was getting sick. Or maybe it was a lowered immune system from the Cholera. Daryl wasn't sure, but with Jimmy playing doctor, at least Dean wouldn't die. But then, Connor came down with a fever twenty miles from Indianapolis, and we were forced to stop and rest, trying to find medicine for the boys.


	4. Mysterious Woman

When they finally arrived in Indianapolis, Dean had gotten better. But now, Connor wasn't doing well. Murphy was nearly in a panic about his brother's illness, trying to pin it on Dean for always getting sick. Somehow, it seemed like that was the only logical reason for the twin to hold onto. Daryl couldn't blame him. Not when it was his other half they were talking about, but he figured it had something to do with the lack of water, and excessive filthy living conditions they were left to deal with. After about three hours of broken sleep, Connor's fever broke, and everyone was able to calm down. The group stayed only long enough to do a few trades, and was quickly out on the road thereafter. It was a strange thing to stay in a place full of homeless people who you couldn't trust each time you turned your back on them. Daryl never felt safe when he was in those towns, and he assumed the rest of the group felt the same way.

Being swindled was never something Daryl could deal well with, and when the water they'd purchased turned out to be bad, none of them wanted to risk drinking it. It left everyone dehydrated, and feeling ill. Jimmy suggested they just dump it out, since there was no point in carrying dirty water with them. So they did, and Daryl decided it was time to search for food again. His search turned up a good score of food, but as they continued on, he noticed the ability to locate water was getting harder and harder.

That night, Jimmy came down with Typhoid, and in a rush, they stopped at a farm. The people there were nice, decent. They offered the group water, and shelter. After about six hours of sleep, Jimmy was doing better. The group had worked together to help the owners of the farm out, fixing some things, helping secure the area to make sure no zombies could just come in and trash the place. But when Connor fell out of the tree and broke his arm, things got ugly.

The twin had been playing around, trying to have a good time with his brother. He didn't know the tree was that old. But once he got about halfway up, the branch snapped, sending him to the ground with a vicious thud. Murphy panicked, rushing to get help. Connor wasn't sick, but the arm would take time to heal, time that the group didn't have. They weren't far from Chicago, and decided to keep moving after the arm was splinted. It was all they could do.

Once out on the road, in the middle of nowhere, the car battery gave out. It took awhile, but Dean was able to replace it with the spare we had. Without proper medication though, for his arm, Connor came down with a fever. He was lucky that he hadn't broken the skin with his break, but the fact that it probably wasn't set right was something that worried everyone. They stopped at a remote shack, abandoned, but safe. It was enough to let Connor rest until his fever broke, and gave them time to search for food. When the group set out on the road, it wasn't the nicest of trips. It was bumpy, rocky, and filled with potholes. The muffler ended up breaking off, Dean spent a majority of the day fixing it, while the rest of the group went off and did their own thing. Daryl was quietly thankful for Dean's handy-know it all. In fact, without Dean, he was sure the group would have had to wait a lot longer, and probably pay a stranger to fix it.

Jimmy and Murphy had found a bunch of abandoned cars, and decided that they should search them for food or other supplies. In the midst of it all, Murphy climbed on top of one to get a better view, as did Jimmy. It was easier to see from this height, he'd agreed. And as the two of them looked out to the horizon, a zombie startled Jimmy, causing him to lose his balance when Murphy shot it. Jimmy fell from the top of the car, landing on the ground wrong, and breaking his leg. Murphy felt guilty about it, seeing as how it was his idea to get on top of the cars, and took the blame. Daryl wasn't happy, to say the least. The group needed to get back on the road, and with Jimmy in as much pain as he was in, it was hard to navigate around the debris. But they made it through, and continued on their way.

Everyone was getting tired of riding in the car, Connor with his broken arm, and Jimmy with his broken leg. Daryl decided it would be smart to rest for a little while, and at least go out and see what he could get from the local stores. Jimmy wanted to come with, to be helpful.

"Fuckin' lot of good you'll be with a broken leg!" Daryl had told him, shouting as he waved his arms to express his point better. "You can't keep going alone. You got attacked." Jimmy snapped back, blue eyes piercing into Daryl's soul. It was a stupid argument, and neither was going to budge, besides, it was already getting dark. Finally agreeing, Daryl let Jimmy come with. Daryl thought maybe they could possibly find some antibiotics, or Tylenol. Something to keep the fevers and pain down.

When the two arrived in town, it was basically dead. The wind blew softly, making a strange whistling noise that kept Jimmy on his toes as he glanced around at the rubble, and scattered dead bodies strewn about the street and parking lot. It wasn't a pleasant sight, and Jimmy swallowed hard before Daryl spoke, causing him to jump slightly. "Now, listen' up. I'm goin' inside. If you see anythin' you shout." Daryl warned him, leaving Jimmy with a gun as he went inside of the store.

To Jimmy, it had felt like hours passed, he wasn't really sure of the time since he no longer had a watch. But he waited just like he was told, standing guard outside. When he heard something shift to his left, he turned quickly, pointing a gun in that direction, only to lower it instantly when he noticed a dark haired woman hiding behind the corner. He had honestly expected some ravenous zombie to be darting towards him. "Hey." Jimmy said, his expression softening greatly. "Hey, are you okay?" He said, setting the gun down and hobbling towards her. She only looked to be in her twenties, and scared. Jimmy hadn't meant to frighten her, but if she was alone, he didn't see why they couldn't take another traveler with them. Maybe she would be helpful, or maybe she knew where to get fresh water. Either way, Jimmy approached her slowly, with his hands out.

"Hey, it's alright. I'm Jimmy. See, I'm okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Are you lost?" He asked, canting his head slightly as he stepped towards her. The woman darted away from him, behind the wall, and Jimmy sighed. "Must be in shock." He stated to himself as he turned to look back at the door in which Daryl could come out of any moment. "Hey, ma'am?" Jimmy said again as he turned to look for the woman around the corner. It seemed as if she'd disappeared, but Jimmy wouldn't give up that easily. Not when he was determined to help everyone he could.

As he stepped around the large blue dumpster, something from underneath grabbed his good leg, and Jimmy let out a bloodcurdling scream. It all happened in a flash, him hitting the ground, his vision going white for a moment. The pain in his leg. But it wasn't his broken leg. It was the other, and that pain was something he'd never felt before. The woman that he'd found was under the dumpster, and now biting into his ankle viciously. "No, stop! Please!" Jimmy screamed, trying to break free of her iron grip. As he let out another scream, a shot was heard from behind him, and the woman dropped onto his leg with in a heavy heap.

"The fuck are you doin'?" Daryl shouted as he ran up to Jimmy to look at the damage. Thankfully, he'd heard Jimmy's big mouth talking to the woman, and he'd come out to check on him. When he saw the gun laying there, Daryl did what any hunter would have. He went around back to try and cut whatever it was that lured Jimmy away off. And thankfully, he'd made it just in time. Shaking his head at Jimmy, the dark haired man let out a whimper. "I'm going to die..." He said, tears welling up in his eyes. "Daryl..." He managed in a small squeak of a voice. "I don't want to die..."

Daryl drew in a shaking breath as he stared at the wound, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, and wrapping it around the wounded leg. "You ain't gonna die." Daryl whispered, wondering if the rumors about there being a cure was true or not. "Look, they said they got a cure where we're headed. The safe haven. You'll make it." Daryl informed him, knowing that he'd have to carry Jimmy back to the car. Their next stop would be Memphis, and maybe there, there would be some medicine to help with everyone who kept getting sick. When the two of them got back to the car, mention of the zombie bite was avoided, and the ride to Memphis remained mostly silent. Daryl felt guilty about Jimmy, if he'd just made him stay behind, this never would have happened. But Jimmy was too stubborn for his own good.

In Memphis, there wasn't much to offer. A few traded supplies, and the group was back on the road. Daryl didn't want to waste time risking Jimmy getting sicker before they could find a cure. Or anyone finding out he'd even been bitten. It would be a mess that Daryl didn't want to deal with, and in all honesty, could end with a few innocent deaths that he'd like to avoid. He'd grown fond of this small group, and felt responsible for them all. Outside of Memphis, there was a small horde of restless zombies. Jimmy suggested we try to sneak through, and Daryl did. Luckily, without any incident.

"Better to live in the moment..." Jimmy whispered softly to Daryl, giving him a soft smile. The guilt that gripped Daryl's chest was nearly unexplainable, but Jimmy was right. They all needed to make every moment count, especially now.

When the food seemed to get short, the group stopped again, only this time, Daryl insisted he go alone. It was a bad idea, because the town was overrun. The moment he came into view of the small market, Daryl should have turned around and went back, but he didn't. Instead, he'd darted through the mess and into the building, grabbed what he could, and darted back towards the horde. He didn't actually have much in his arms except a brown paper bag filled with easily edible foods. Unfortunately, the darkening sky had caused Daryl to not be able to see very well as he tried to run towards the road. He tripped over a sizable rock, twisting his ankle, and scrambling to pick up everything he'd dropped. Daryl came back to the car limping, but explained to everyone that he didn't get bit, but he'd twisted his ankle running. And as he went to fuel up, one of the gas cans were missing. When questioned about the missing tank, no one had an answer for what happened to the gas can, knowing that they only had so many on the car to begin with. Daryl decided it wasn't worth the argument, and the group continued on.


	5. Executioner

Blue eyes scanned the area quickly as the young dark haired male panted, his back against the cold steel wall of a shack. He'd been chased for the last mile, or so, after losing the group. How did Murphy end up getting so far away? It started when he and Daryl got into a fight over who should be searching for food. Daryl just kept getting hurt, and Murphy was just trying to make a helpful suggestion. But the suggestion had turned into a screaming fight, Murphy throwing the first punch, and then running for his life. The only problem was, he hadn't stopped running, and when he did, he'd be surrounded by zombies. But now, he was behind a shack, and probably alone. At least, he'd hoped. As he stepped out from behind it, and checked the tree line carefully, he let out a soft sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow. Now, he'd just have to find his way back to the highway, and back to everyone else, if they weren't already looking for him.

"Connor!" Murphy screamed, hoping there weren't any zombies around to hear him. He waited for a long silent moment, but didn't hear anything in reply. His twin must not have been anywhere nearby, at least, not yet. He'd hoped his brother would come looking for him, because it was what he would do for him. Taking this chance to really look around, Murphy's eyes caught glimpse of the farm house that was near the shack. Maybe there was food inside, something he could bring back to say he was sorry with, and make things a little better.

The young man made his way towards the house, only to stop a moment when he could have sworn he'd seen the bushes move. Pulling out his handgun, Murphy pointed at the bushes as he moved closer, trying to get a better view. Behind the leaves, he could just make out the soft blonde hair of a little girl sitting with her knees to her chest. "Hey..." Murphy said, lowering his gun slightly. "Come on out here, are you alright?" He asked, the large blue eyes darting up at him as she obeyed his command and crawled out. The little girl was dirty, and looked like she hadn't eaten for a few days. "This your house?" He asked her, she nodded her head slowly in response, wiping away the tears. Stepping up to the door, Murphy waited for the little girl to follow him before he pushed the door open, holding his gun out. "Hello?" He called out into the dark, the little girl grabbing onto his black t-shirt in fear. "Hey, it's gonna be alright." He assured her, placing a hand on her head before returning his sight to the room. From the kitchen, Murphy saw a shadow move just as a zombie woman came towards him. It must have been her mother, or older sister, he thought, before shooting it in the head.

The little girl gave out a small scream, as was expected, and Murphy bent down to one knee to look at her. "I'm sorry you had to see that, but you know she was a monster, right?" He asked, reaching out to comfort her. The small child nodded a few times, sniffling back. "That's why you were outside, wasn't it? Because they came after you?" He asked her, watching as she shook her head again. Stepping inside with the little girl, Murphy moved towards the kitchen to make sure it was all clear before he started digging through the cupboards. He grabbed a small box of crackers that was definitely out of the little girl's reach, and passed them down to her. She tore into them, and quickly began to eat before mumbling a quiet thank you to the man who'd just saved her life. "Hey, it's no problem. I'm here to save people." He said, smiling down at her before going back to digging in the cabinets. There wasn't much Murphy could really take, it looked as if this family had been trying to stick it out for awhile now, and they were finally coming down to the end of things. With that in mind, Murphy knew that he couldn't just leave the little girl behind.

"Hey, we're gonna go find my friends, okay? We're going someplace safe, and you can come, too." Murphy said as he bent down to her level again. The little girl nodded in agreement, grabbing hold of Murphy's shirt and following him as he stepped back out of the old farm house. "Connor!" Murphy shouted out again, this time, hearing a response.

"Murph!" Connor shouted, pointing in the direction he'd heard the voice. Everyone had gone out searching for him. Daryl wasn't mad anymore, but they needed to stick together. And leaving Jimmy behind in the car wasn't exactly the easiest choice they'd made. He was alone, but Daryl was sure he wouldn't be stupid enough to go chasing after a zombie again. As the group continued through the trees, Connor ahead of everyone else, Murphy continued to call to them.

Murphy watched as the group of people slowly became larger at the tree line. "Hey look, there's my friends." Murphy said to the little girl. She looked up at him carefully, suddenly turning and falling to her knees, throwing up. "Hey, easy." He called out, reaching down to pat her on the back and move her hair out of the way. "Must have eaten those crackers too fast, huh?" He asked. Murphy couldn't help but feel bad as she threw up once more, this time letting out a tiny cry with it. But something caught Murphy's eyes as he watched - the large amount of blood that was coming up with the crackers. For a moment, Murphy felt paralyzed, at least, until the little girl was up on two legs, and biting into his shoulder.

"Murphy!" Connor screamed as he took off at a run towards his brother, pulling out his gun and firing as soon as he got close enough. "Murphy!" He screamed again, everyone else not more than ten paces behind.

"Fuck! What the fuck! Fuck!" Murphy screamed out, holding a hand over his shoulder where she'd bit into him and staring at the corpse wide eyed. "She was fine just a fuckin' second ago!" He screamed, blue eyes wide with fear as he looked at his brother. He knew the results of being bitten, and still wasn't aware of Jimmy's condition. To him, he felt like the biggest burden this group had ever seen. He'd gotten lost, and now bitten, and that only meant that he'd slow them down, or have to be put down. "Connor." He whispered, holding his gun out towards his brother. "Just shoot me." He stated, eyes narrowing as he stared at him. Connor shook his head in response, but Murphy insisted, screaming as he shoved the gun into his brother's hand. "Shoot me god damn it! I'm as good as dead!"

"There might be a cure." Daryl stated, blinking at the twins who were both screaming at each other for the other to stop it. Murphy stopped screaming, and Connor looked at Daryl like he was mad. "Might be a cure?" Connor asked him, kicking corpse. "Might! That isn't good enough!" Connor grabbed Daryl by the shirt and pulled him closer. "My brother got fuckin' bit because of you!" He said, blue eyes scanning between Daryl and Murphy. It wasn't really Daryl's fault, and Connor and Murphy both knew it.

"Con. Stop it." Murphy managed, taking in a breath as he'd already started to cry. "Just stop. It ain't his fault." He stated, still holding his shoulder. "If he says there might be a cure, then... Let's try it." He said, standing up, and still feeling ashamed. Connor shook his head, grabbing his brother by the good arm and helping him up. "Did she get you anywhere else?" He asked, his voice drenched in concern as they started to make their way back. "No. Just there." He finished, already feeling weakened by the virus that was fresh in his blood. As they stepped through the woods, they found an abandoned car that had a spare tire they could use in it. At least it was something, as Daryl picked it up to carry it back. It wasn't like there was an auto repair store they could just stop at if things started to get ugly, so Daryl would pick up anything he could find.

When they finally got back, Jimmy had pointed out the blockage in the road that he'd scope out. It had cost them a few extra hours, but they eventually made it around. It was something Daryl had started to take for granted, Jimmy's navigation skills. Maybe it was the virus that made his vision a little blurry, but Jimmy was constantly rubbing his eyes as he tried to tell them where to go, and complaining about the map not being clear. But Daryl didn't say much, he just did what Jimmy said and eventually, they made it through.

That night, it wasn't long before Murphy started showing signs of green fever. He seemed to be taking the zombie bite a lot harder than Jimmy. Connor was in a near panic the whole time, trying to break his brother's fever while keeping everyone away from him. "Just let me die..." Murphy had managed, coughing up blood as he spoke. "Stop that. I won't." Connor replied. Without the other's permission, Connor used the medical packs they had left on Murphy. All three of them, while the others were out searching for things. He'd ripped through the supplies to find them, throwing things aside, and not caring. Murphy protested, but Connor would hear nothing of it. The others had found an abandoned car with nothing worth scrapping in it. When the group returned, Murphy's fever still wouldn't break, and Connor was still upset. Without any medical supplies left, Connor had to try and talk Murphy through it.

They were only a few miles away from a hospital when Murphy started to have a seizure. Connor did what he could to hold his brother down, but the fit had caused a gas can to fall out of the car, and spill everywhere. Leaving them with one less gallon of gas that could have been used to get them closer to their final destination. When Murphy calmed down, Connor told him not to worry about what had happened. It wasn't his fault he'd gone into a fit, and if anyone wanted to argue, Connor would see to it that they met whatever God they believed in.

When they finally reached the hospital, Connor stole what money the group had left, and purchased more medical kits without telling anyone. He'd wandered through the halls, searching for abandoned kits, but instead, came across a woman who seemed to have already collected everything.

"Nice collection." Connor stated as he walked into the room, his black coat trailing along his thighs. While the woman looked up at him, she smirked softly before going back to whatever she was doing. It looked like she was taking inventory, and Connor wasn't about to sit around and wait for her to finish. "I need-" He started, only to have her glance up at him again, this time with a scowl.

"Medical supplies, I know." She stated, her voice sending chills down the lighter haired twin's spine. She reached down, pulling out two kits and passing them to Connor. "Give me all the money you have, and those are yours." She whispered, Connor made a face in return.

"Aye, I've got more here than that's wor-" Connor started before she started to take them back. In a panic, Connor threw the money at her, and grabbed the kits. "Stingy whore." He mumbled as he left the room, slipping the kits under his jacket, and bounding off down the hall to get back to Murphy as quickly as he could.

Murphy was slowly starting to look better, and Connor refused to leave his side the whole time the group rested. That was, until Jimmy started showing signs of the G-Virus. It first started with puking blood. Only, the blood wasn't red, it was black. Dean was the one who noticed it after Jimmy swore he was okay. Grabbing one of the medical kits from Connor, Dean did what he could for Jimmy, offering him antibiotic pills, and trying to keep him warm.

"I'm so cold..." Jimmy stated, blue eyes boring into Dean as he clung to him. "Please, Dean. I'm freezing." He'd managed, choking on the blood that kept coming up every time he moved.

Dean frowned down at him, not sure what more he could do. They'd given him the contents of an entire first aid kit already and it didn't seem to be helping any, not more for an hour or two anyways. Jimmy shifted again though, hands curling into his shirt as if to find some warmth. Jimmy coughed and Dean knew there was probably more blood in his throat since he'd been coughing it up more and more as he seemed to progress with this dark sickness. His frown softened only by a little as he said, "Hey. Stay still. It's gonna be okay." That was all he could do anymore, that was all he knew to do. What more could you do for a friend that looked as if they were on their final hours. Of course, Dean wasn't about to let Jimmy die though. He'd help as much as he could to prevent it; the sole idea making him feel like throwing up.

Murphy's sickness was getting better, which was one good thing Dean could say about everything in the present moment. Not that anyone was actually going to smile about that. And while Connor seemed to be focused more on his own brother than anyone else, the air around the situation remained stiff. Connor had spend all of his energy on Murphy, and didn't care for the others. And now, Jimmy was declining quickly, and Connor made no moves to help.

Dean heard Daryl working to get the car resituated so they could leave and looked down at Jimmy again, trying a small smile. The guy had passed out, medicine he gave him an hour and a half ago finally kicking in and giving what looked to be a little relief. While he wasn't sure how long the relief would last, all Dean could do was hope that things would start to look better like they had for Murphy as the group got ready to leave.

Glancing up towards the rear view mirror, he saw Daryl was in the car again and looking back in his direction. Dean gave a nod as if to signal everything was okay on his end so they could leave. Murphy and Connor were in the car now, as well. He wasn't entirely sure where they were going to go next, but Dean only hoped there'd be something good. The twins had moved up front, leaving Jimmy and Dean in the back by themselves. It was easier this way, and Connor and Murphy had never minded being so close to each other. Dean couldn't say the same about being with Jimmy, but he was the only familiar thing Dean had left to hold onto.

There were many obstacles in the road after the hospital, slowing them down. And without Jimmy there to navigate, it had taken them even longer. Connor and Murphy did nothing more than argue about which way to go, dropping the compass and nearly ripping the map as they fough. Stopping the car when they realized just how short on food they were, Daryl got ready to go out and search the nearest town for anything he could grab. As he reached into the back to grab his crossbow, he noticed something Dean had missed.

Jimmy's back had began to bubble and blister, his whole body looking as if it were going to explode. The smell coming from the other man was something that even Daryl couldn't handle as he stepped back from Jimmy. How he had missed it earlier was beyond him, but now that he had gotten closer, it was impossible to avoid. The others also got out of the car rather quickly, as Jimmy started to make noises that no human should ever make. "Dean." Daryl stated, as the hunter had remained at the other's side. Jimmy was still holding onto that stupid suitcase, his knuckles now bloody, and rotting it seemed, but it was still in his grip. Dean reached down, running a hand through Jimmy's dark hair, small tufts falling out around his fingers. The hunter let out something of a small sob before Jimmy suddenly shot up, glancing at Dean for a long moment. It was like something out of a movie, perhaps the Exorcist. The way Jimmy sat, his back completely straight, and almost no life in his eyes as he stared. Dean wasn't sure what to do as he sat, paralyzed with fear as a small gust blew through the open doors the car. The gust caused the small tufts of dark hair to roll around, blowing out of the car, over Dean's legs, and off of his hands before Jimmy shambled out of the backseat of the car, and towards Daryl who had been standing there watching the whole time. He'd already had his crossbow loaded, but it wasn't at the ready.

It only took a moment before Dean pulled the handgun from the back of his pants, pulled the hammer back, and fired off one round right into the back of Jimmy's head. "It's going to be alright." Dean whispered as Jimmy crashed to the ground. "We're going to find a cure..." He stated, chewing his lip as he let his body slump against the seat, his own gun nearly slipping out of his fingers as he stared off into the distance. The rest of the group remained silent for a long moment until Dean grabbed the gun and aimed it towards his own head. It was something none of the group had exactly anticipated, and had happened so fast, only Connor had time to respond.

"Aye! You stop this now, do you understand me!" Connor screamed as he jumped through the open door, and onto Dean, grabbing the gun from him. "You don't waste bullets, and you don't waste lives!" Connor stated, tossing the gun out towards Daryl. "He couldn't be saved, you got that?" Connor growled, nearly nose to nose with the hunter who then proceeded to shove him.

"He was my friend!" Dean called out, it was the first human that he'd had to put down. Castiel's vessel. Jimmy Novak. His friend. The man whose life was ruined because of that angel. And Dean couldn't even keep the promise to find him a cure. "No one even had the gull to tell me he'd been bit! No one!" Dean shouted out, feeling angry at everyone for keeping it secret. But no one else had known either, in fact, only Daryl and Jimmy.

"Then live for 'em." Daryl stated as picked the gun up from the ground, and walking towards Dean. "Live for 'em, and help fix this world so ain't no one else like him gonna suffer." Daryl finished before turning towards Connor and Murphy. "We all have to stick together. They said there's a cure, and we'll have it when we get there." He finished, trying to keep the group's hope alive. Dean simply rolled his eyes as he let himself slump against the seat, staring down at the tufts of dark hair that had remained within the back of the car. For fear of Dean shooting himself, or hurting anyone else, the group decided to keep going, leaving Jimmy's corpse behind, and trying to make their way towards Dallas.


	6. Twins

When the group finally arrived in Dallas, the whole team was exhausted. It was never easy losing someone you cared about, and Dean wasn't at his fullest. The place was packed with sick, and poor alike. Everyone shoving, screaming, and whining at each other. The group didn't stay long, only resting a few hours before finally heading out again. There wasn't much to trade, after all. And sticking around with Murphy in the condition he was, it didn't seem reasonable to waste more time. Without Jimmy's help navigating through the piles of cars, the group wasted more time trying to scout out paths than they would have liked to admit. Jimmy was always good at that, and picking the shortest routes on the map.

It didn't help that while Connor was changing Murphy's bandages, Murphy's hand slipped and he dropped his cigarette into the bag with the last two medical kits, destroying them completely. They were so hard to come by, and they were lucky they'd found the ones they had. It wasn't his fault, and Connor tried to explain that, but Daryl still wasn't pleased.

"I'd told y'all not to fuckin' smoke in the car. Didn't I?" Daryl growled as he rubbed a hand over his head angrily. Connor nodded carefully, his own eyes filled with hate as he stared at the other man. It was agitating to remain in a car together for this long, and with Dean as depressed as he was about losing Jimmy, it just left everyone else on edge.

When they came across a car that looked like it might have stuff in it, Daryl came back empty handed. There wasn't much left in the world it seemed, and Dean felt a hundred percent more empty without Jimmy Novak around to talk to. As much as Daryl tried to be a source of comfort for the other, it really didn't work. Not when Dean wanted nothing to do with anyone else. Dean had started riding up front with Daryl, but it really didn't make a difference. Each attempt Daryl made to talk to Dean was left in vain as Dean either didn't respond, or left the other with single word responses to work with.

With the lack of water between all of them, runoff drains were the only thing they could find. It was disgusting, but when you were dehydrated, it was better than nothing. To their luck, a snowstorm hit just as heavy ash came down and coated the windshield. "This really is the wrath of God." Connor whispered to himself more than anything. It was snowing, ash was raining down, people were dying, and there was hardly anything left. To Connor, this was a nightmare, and one that he would have preferred to wake up from sooner rather than later.

After the storm cleared, Dean tried to take over the navigation because of Jimmy's absence. The hunter was no good with a map, and in the end, the group had managed to get lost for several hours before they finally found their way back to the main highway. It wasn't long after that that Murphy started showing signs of the Green Flu, and throwing up blood once again. To make things easier, Daryl suggested putting the twin down, but Connor threatened to shove his crossbow up his ass if he asked again.

Murphy seemed close to death, and there were no medical kits available due to the accident before. During one of Daryl's outings for food, Connor stopped at a nearby camp, offering them bullets for two medical kits. Thankfully, one of the strangers complied, not giving him the creeps, or arguing with him to try and get more than the kits were worth, and Connor immediately used them on Murphy. But the two medical kits weren't enough, and Murphy was still weak and pale. Giving up his own ration of food for the day, Connor got another medical kit, and used it on Murphy before Daryl even got back.

When the group stopped again, Connor decided to steal one of the extra mufflers that they group had stored in the back for two more medical kits. He knew the group wouldn't have appreciated this, but he wasn't about to let his brother die. Not after seeing how Jimmy died, he just couldn't. Murphy was his brother, his other half, his everything. The ride was hurting him more, and Connor begged to just stay and rest. But Daryl refused, informing him that if he couldn't make the ride, it wasn't his problem. The harshness of Daryl's words rang loudly in Connor's ears, but he couldn't just let his brother die. It wasn't fair, this world wasn't fair. Nothing left was even thinking about being fair as Connor held tightly onto his brother's hand, trying to think of other things he could possibly do to make the pain stop. Each and every bump and bounce of the car caused Murphy to scream out in pain.

There was only sludge water to drink, leaving everyone feel disgusted and weak. Connor remained with Murphy as much as he possibly could, as his twin slowly started to dance the line of near death. When Connor thought it was all over, Murphy suddenly started to look better, and with relief, was no longer sick. He'd started talking again, and his fever broke. It was enough to cheer Connor up, that was, until Dean came down with Dysentery. Daryl decided to finally stop for a few hours, giving Dean enough time to get better. Connor didn't really appreciate the fact that Daryl would stop for Dean, but not Murphy. But instead of starting a fight, he took the time they had from the stop to try and clean Murphy up a little, and keep nursing him back to health. Luckily, on their way out of the rest area, there was an abandoned car with a spare tire, and honestly, the group would take any spare parts they could get. But once again, a buildup of debris and broken down cars slowed them down as they spent several hours trying to navigate around them without Jimmy. Dean was getting better with his navigating skills, but it was nothing compared to what Jimmy could do. He hadn't told anyone, but the suitcase Jimmy had carried along with him, Dean had kept. When the other had shambled out of the car, and after the shot had been fired, and the fight, Dean had taken it upon himself to take the discarded suitcase, and place it in the back. Never once had he bothered to open it, but it was there. And in a strange way, it brought the hunter comfort when everyone else was asleep. Like a piece of Jimmy was still around.

Once around them, there was none other than a strip club at which to rest. Connor and Murphy tried to show excitement, but really couldn't. Not while Murphy was sick. Of course, Dean took every chance he could go while he was there, and found his way around and started talking to the women. Live in the moment, he thought to himself. Jimmy had said that to him a few times in private, before Dean even knew the other had been bit. He supposed maybe that was why he kept saying it, because Jimmy knew he was going to die. That could have explained the small private moment the two of them had shared at one of the rest stops. It was just a small moment, nothing more than a simple peck, and Dean hadn't thought much if it until now. But that was beyond the point. To live in the moment was the point, and Dean would make the most of it while he could. Jimmy would have wanted this, he hoped.

"Hey, ladies. How are we this evening?" Dean asked, a sly smile on his lips as he drank the alcohol they had provided. The women were charmed, and Dean felt pretty good about everything, at least, until the large white male that was apparently one of the women's husbands come up and grabbed Dean so hard, he broke his arm as he threw him against the bar. When Dean came back to the group, he refused to talk about what happened, and soon came down with Typhoid. Dean figured that it was from the closeness of the sick people along with the women in that club. Plus, alcohol lowered your immune system, and maybe they didn't clean their glasses very well. Either way, the fever was horrible.

The group decided to leave right away after that, and unfortunately ran into a snow storm. The weather was absolutely unbelievable as they continued on, and Daryl made sure to express this very verbally as they tried to make their way towards their goal. Connor was feeling pretty terrible about the way he'd sold things that he wasn't supposed too to save his brother, and insisted that Dean use one of the medical kits he'd purchased.

"Just use it." Connor stated softly, holding it out. Murphy was getting better, and there was no reason for him to be stingy about it. "Please. You're sick, and you need it. I insist." Connor stated as he opened it up, and tried to give the medication to Dean. After a few more protests, Dean finally accepted. Luckily, the kit was enough to break Dean's fever. While on a bathroom break, Daryl had managed to actually find a few fruit bushes, which saved Daryl a long trip in the snow to look for food.

Murphy was finally feeling a lot better, and after the storm stopped, the group decided to take a break, and look around. Murphy and Connor even got into a snowball fight, laughing and playing like the old times. Even Dean joined in, tossing a few snowballs from the safety of the hood of Daryl's station wagon. Daryl didn't feel like playing, instead, he wanted to make sure they had enough of everything to keep going as the twins played in the snow. With his head in the backseat, Daryl started to sort through what they had left.

Connor was glad to see Murphy was finally feeling better, but when a zombie stumbled out from behind a broken car, Connor's gut nearly dropped. It seemed the dead monsters had gotten a little faster, and the zombie darted right for Murphy, grabbing him by the chest, and biting into the still healing wound the little girl had left him all that time ago. Screaming bloody murder, Connor jumped on the zombie, yanking it off of his brother as he bashed it's head in with an icy rock that he'd managed to grab out of the snow.

The chaos was enough to alert Daryl, and Dean had been busy helping Daryl, and hadn't noticed until Daryl did. The two quickly made their way over, trying to stop the bleeding from the now larger wound. As if things couldn't possibly get worse, the amount of blood loss, mixed with the snow was leaving Murphy in a state of near shock. Connor was screaming for a blanket as Dean was insisting they move him into the car. And while everyone was distracted, a thief made their way into the car and stole a battery. With Murphy bleeding again, and freshly bitten, Daryl decided they should definitely leave. When they finally got the twin to the car, the open hatch was enough to tell Daryl someone had stopped and helped themselves. There was a trail of footprints in the snow that said the thief had made off with the battery rather quickly, and Daryl silently wondered if he was the reason the zombie had come out. Wrapping Murphy in a blanket, Connor crawled into the back, swearing at himself for wanting to have fun. It seemed like each time either of them tried to do anything that wasn't depressing, or difficult, people got hurt. Maybe the end of the world really was a place where no one could have fun, or enjoy their family anymore. It was a cruel place, and it left everyone cold and dark.

The group finally made it to Albuquerque, and stopped to rest. With the snow, there were more people indoors now, and everyone seemed to be getting cabin fever. People were trying to get into the car, begging for the group to take them with. Absolutely no one here had anything worth trading for, not even medical kids. With the increase in thief activity, Daryl decided it was best to keep moving, despite Murphy's condition. If they were going to make it for a cure, they'd need to get moving. That, and the group was running very low on food. When they finally made their way out, Daryl pulled the car as close to a mostly abandoned gas station as possible before finally getting out and checking for food.


End file.
